


i hope that you burn

by scarletsymphony



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Begging, Cervical Play, Crying, F/F, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Fisting, Hate Sex, Humiliation, Infidelity, Masochism, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Power Dynamics, Revenge Sex, Rough Sex, Sadism, emotional and physical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 12:38:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7715203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletsymphony/pseuds/scarletsymphony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's one of those panel news shows, and the woman talking leans slightly into the camera, revealing cleavage, expression grave. Eliza's brain catalogues details on autopilot: blond, purple wrap dress, a bracelet with turquoise stone inlay, the shine of an excessive amount of highlighter on her cheekbones.</p><p>"Reports coming in this morning of a blog post on Senator Alexander Hamilton's campaign website, allegedly written by the man himself where he confesses to cheating on his wife with a Maria Reynolds―"</p>
            </blockquote>





	i hope that you burn

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so, this started an excuse to write some kinky hate sex that happens extremely dubious circumstances. People here are being bad people and are doing terrible things. Consider yourself warned.

It's one of those panel news shows, and the woman talking leans slightly into the camera, revealing cleavage, expression grave. Eliza's brain catalogues details on autopilot: blond, purple wrap dress, a bracelet with turquoise stone inlay, the shine of an excessive amount of highlighter on her cheekbones.

"Reports coming in this morning of a blog post on Senator Alexander Hamilton's campaign website, allegedly written by the man himself where he confesses to cheating on his wife with a Maria Reynolds―"

Eliza sits back her chair, hearing more than feeling herself take in a sharp breath. Everything is still and quiet in her mind for a moment, vision swimming, blurring. Then the pain hits, square in the middle of her chest, aching and heavy.

She takes a loud, shuddering breath and realizes her jaw has been clenched. She relaxes her death grip on the arm of her office chair and takes another breath, then another, forcing herself to refocus, blinking at the monitor in front of her where the video is still playing.

Not thinking too hard about it, she restarts the video.

Then watches another one. And another one. She knows she should stop, but she can't. When she runs out of videos she moves onto the articles. The further she gets the more numb she goes. Eventually the details coalesce and the facts establish themselves in her mind.

The affair started two years ago, during the summer she took off to visit Ang.

Maria Reynolds. 25. 23 when the affair started. Married. Paralegal. The picture they're using of her is obviously from college: curly brown hair chopped just above the shoulders, thick black frame glasses, Georgetown sweater, no makeup. She looks young.

_"You have to wonder about the wife in situations like this, what exactly―"_

_"I mean, I'm just saying Carol, if you're going to cheat on your wife, why would you do it with someone who looks like―"_

_"Elizabeth Schuyler could not be reached for commentary―"_

She goes to his campaign site, twice, but each time she clicks back. She will not read his post.

She won't.

The Skype icon on her task bar vibrates, not for the first time, and reluctantly she opens the up the chat window with her sister.

angelica.schuyler: hey, are you okay? I've been trying to reach you by text.

eliza.s: yes? why wouldn't I be? is something going on?

angelica.schuyler: you haven't heard yet.

eliza.s: ??? I just woke up from a nap. is everything okay?

angelica.schuyler: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n7pfCDTz_8L>

angelica.schuyler: do you need me to come over?

angelica.schuyler: are you still there?

angelica.schuyler: I realize this is a lot to take in right now, but Eliza, talk to me. Please. I can help.

Eliza exits Skype without answering. She stands, walking to the couch in the living room and picking up her phone. She hesitates before thumbing the button. The amount of missed calls and texts is predictable but it still overwhelms her, and she turns the phone off. For good measure she checks if the door is locked, then deadbolts it. She lies down on the couch, staring unseeing up at the ceiling.

It takes her a little while to realize she's started to cry silently, awareness of her wet face coming to her gradually. She's not sure how long she lies there, exactly, but her face is mostly dry when she hears the chime that alerts her someone is buzzing up from downstairs. She sits up, frowning. He wouldn't dare. Except, he would, wouldn't he. He’s always dared.

She's going to ignore it, she really is, except she ends up in front of the intercom display, somehow, and it's still ringing and she wants it to stop so she taps in.

The screen takes a handful of seconds to resolve, and it's...not him.

It's her. Fuck. _Fuck._

Light brown sweater, same black framed glasses as the picture from the news. Her hair's longer than in the pictures, but she's still wearing no make up. She looks nervous. Eliza should turn the intercom off.

"How do you know this address?" Eliza asks, hearing her tone come out mild, to her surprise.

The girl, Maria, goes pink, glancing nervously off to the side. When Eliza gets it she digs her nails into her palms to keep from making any noise. How _dare_ he ― he brought her _here ―_

She buzzes her up, watching the intercom go black. She brings her fist up next to the panel, leaning against the wall. She breathes in an out and carefully thinks about nothing at all until she hears a knock at her door.

Pushing off the wall she takes one step, two, undoes the deadbolt, opens the door. She looks straight into the girl's _―_ Maria's eyes, which are brown, a little darker than her own, and says, "Why are you here?"

She watches with detached interest as the girl blinks rapidly, shoulder's hunching as she licks her lips before replying, words seeming deliberately slowed and steady. "Usually on Saturdays he's here and you're not. I thought _―_ I wanted to talk to him about all this. Uh." Her hand gestures in a vague upwards motion. "Just talk _―_ " she closes her mouth abruptly, as if cutting herself off.

Eliza considers this for a moment, and decides her question hasn't actually been answered yet so really, she has nothing to say to that.

She takes the opportunity to look Maria over, catching all the details that are easier to see in person _―_ the freckles on her cheek, the slight frizziness haloing her curls. She's wearing a dark knee length brown skirt to go with her sweater and sensibly ugly shoes. Eliza's eyes follow the curve of her hip, the shape of her legs and then flit back up to contemplate her mouth, still slightly wet from licking her lips. Eliza feels herself smile, bitter and small. She and Alex had always had a similar taste in women. She notices the girl's gone pink, and, oh. Her pupils are dilated. She feels her stomach _―_ which has been clenched in knots _―_ tighten even further.

"Well, he isn't here, clearly, which leads me to wonder why, exactly, you chose to come up to see the wife of the man you've been fucking?" Eliza asks, tone even and politely inquiring, catching Maria’s eyes again and holding her gaze. She steps forward into her space, continuing to talk.

“He always told me he went into work, Saturdays. Seemed plausible, the way he’s always working.” She laughs. “It was my brunch and shopping day, you know.” The girl’s eyes have widened but she hasn’t stepped back. Eliza takes another step, putting her foot between the Maria’s and raising a hand to run her knuckles down the side of her warm face, smiling unkindly.  

“Look at that. Sure you came here to _just talk_? Sure you didn’t come to fuck my husband one last time?” Maria's eyebrows furrow, her mouth opening to speak. “Oh, come on.” Eliza taps the side of the girl’s face with her knuckles, cutting her off.  “All that adrenaline from being caught out, and still coming back for more? Sounds like fun.” Maria flinches, cringing away.

Eliza steps back abruptly, jaw clenching, watching Maria droop forward, eyes wide, shining and slightly glassy, one of her fists clenched in front of her.

That was a mistake. Eliza should stop this, right now.

“You can leave.” Her voice comes out louder, harsher than she intends. The girl lifts her head slowly, fist uncurling. And then, to Eliza’s surprise, she takes a step forward, then another, brushing past her into the apartment.

Eliza turns, facing Maria, who's standing just inside the door now. She swallows and Eliza watches her throat work. She's looking away, then straight at Eliza, expression blank. "I'm sorry."

Eliza feels anger boil up in her, quick as a flash, and she's reaching over to slam the door closed then crowds Maria against it, hands sliding into her hair, kissing her with more teeth than finesse. She's angry, and it feels clean, pure, almost like relief. She pulls back slightly and yanks on the girl's hair, watching her mouth open with it, red and wet, panting. Eliza leans forward and bites Maria's lower lip, feeling the girl twist beneath it, whimpering.

Eliza pulls her head away just enough, licking her lips and letting the expression of contempt settle on her face, bringing her thigh firmly up between Maria's legs and feeling her jerk against the pressure. "Sorry for what, fucking my husband? Or is that for getting caught?" The girl shakes her head quickly, moving against Eliza's grip in her hair and Eliza frowns, yanking again. "No? I'm not sure I believe you. You don't _feel_ sorry." She presses her thigh in harder as she says it, and imagines there might be a wet spot on her sweatpants when she pulls away. "Working your way through the family, are you?"

Maria's mouth twists, like she's eaten something sour. "Fuck you ―"

Eliza slaps her, keeping one hand in the girl's hair to hold her head in place. "Shut the fuck up." she hisses. The ill disguised look of hurt on Maria's face mingles with her obvious arousal makes Eliza's cunt pulse, makes her feel _good_. She moves a hand down, using her thigh to ruck up Maria's skirt and reaching under, pressing two fingers against her underwear ― which is soaked through. Eliza smiles, showing her teeth, and Maria holds her gaze defiantly, grind down on Eliza's hand.

She readjusts her grip on the girl's hair, fisting her hand close to the scalp, holding it there for a moment to hear Maria moan. Then she pulls her hand down level with her chest, forcing Maria to bend over slightly. She walks her to the bedroom this way, dragging the girl through the corridor, past the living room, through the bedroom door and shoving her back first onto the bed. Maria shuffles backwards on her elbows, staring at Eliza warily, but with a surprisingly steady gaze.

Eliza takes a step back, then another, pausing in the door, looking Maria over; hair in disarray, lips bitten red, skirt half hiked to her hip, shoes still on, eyes sharp.

"Did he fuck you here?" she asks, knowing the answer but wanting hear it.

Maria swallows and nods, not looking away. "Yeah."

Eliza walks forward, kneeling onto the bed to hover over Maria, tracing a hand down the girl's side. "Mmmm. And now you're here again, and apparently, going to let me, wife of the married man you've been fucking, fuck you in the same bed." She feels Maria shiver under her touch, or maybe her words, and firms her hand at the girl's hip.

Maria hesitates, then shrugs, looking defiant, and the mulish expression reminds Eliza of how young she is, and it makes her angry all over again. _What the hell, Alex._ "Well, I wasn't exactly expecting _this_ when I came here." Maria gestures between herself and Eliza, sounding derisive.

The defensiveness lurking behind the flat tone makes Eliza smirk, and she lets Maria's hip go, tracing her hand up the girl's thigh, pushing her skirt up.  "But you did come up here, didn't you? What exactly were you expecting, then? Don't get me wrong now, Alex is a piece of shit for doing this. " She moves her hand up Maria's skirt, slipping her hand into her underwear and resting the heel of her palm over the girl's cunt, grinding down.  "That being said, you're still here, for some reason. You've been here." She plays it like a bland observation, lets it hang in the air, lets the rest go unspoken. _What is wrong with you, that you've chosen this?_

She feels Maria get wetter against her palm, breath coming out in a few little hitches at her words. She watches the girl curl into herself, chin lowering. It makes her look _so young_ , and the flash of shame Eliza sees in her eyes before she looks angry feels like winning. It also makes Eliza wet as hell.

"I'm sorry, are you trying to tell me how fucked up _I_ am after you literally dragged me in here after your husband told the whole world he's been cheating on you?" Maria sounds sharp, and Eliza figures that it's supposed to make her angry, but Maria's right ― and right now the vulnerable undercurrent in Maria's aggrieved tone is a lot more interesting to Eliza.

"You're free to leave." Eliza says lightly and Maria surges up with an snarl, and they're kissing again, Eliza shifting her hand to press two fingers into Maria, who is _soaking_ , curling her fingers and rubbing one, two, three times, Maria's moaning and moving against her and clenching around her fingers and _fuck_.

 She pushes Maria down on her back hard, then keeps that hand flat on her chest. She rubs her thumb across Maria's lips, and the girl opens her mouth, sucking it in and fuck, that's hot. "I'm going to fuck your face."

Maria breathes "Fuck, yeah." around her thumb, and Eliza pulls it away, slapping Maria lightly to see her react, then harder to see her gasp. Then she raises her hand, stalling at the last moment and feeling Maria jerk under her palm, watches her face twist in indignation.

Laughing, Eliza pulls away from Maria pushing her sweats down and off, and thank god she's not wearing underwear. She clambers back up, straddling Maria neck, kneeling up and looking down at Maria's face. Eliza reaches down to tuck a strand of hair behind Maria's ear, smoothing it down carefully before shuffling forward on her knees, exhaling as her cunt settles over Maria's face. Maria's hands come up to grip her hips and Eliza makes an irritated sound, slapping them away. "No."

Eliza shifts, making a few experimental thrusts, adjusting until she's got Maria's tongue right there and yeah, "Don't fucking move." She grits out and reaches up to brace her hands on the headboard, moving her hips tentatively, then speeding up; and shit, she's so turned on she already feels her first orgasm starting to build low in her cunt.

 She closes her eyes, letting her movements speed up as the feeling slowly builds, and builds, and builds until her hips are snapping forward erratically and she feels like she might damn near slip off Maria's face. Then she's coming, orgasm rocking through her so hard it's almost painful ― "Fuck, fuuuck."

After an indeterminate amount of time she becomes aware through the haze that Maria's tongue is still moving, smooth pressure, sending little electrical jolts up her cunt through the aftershocks as a prickly after-orgasm warmth radiates down her inner thighs.

She works her way up to a second orgasm with more leisure, slowly grinding down on Maria's face in wide, lazy movements, listening to the wet sounds of her cunt against Maria's face, luxuriating in the glide of the movement. When she finally comes again it rolls through her in waves, cresting and falling away slowly.

 When it's over she lets go of the headboard, flexing cramped hands then bracing a hand on the bed above Maria's head for balance to swing off. Eliza sits down hard, arranging her numb legs to face Maria, who is, unsurprisingly, touching herself. She looks _wrecked_ , face and neck shiny wet, the curls around her face plastered down against her skin, even the collar of her damn sweater is darkened wet with Eliza, and fuck it's hot. Her skirt is up by her waist, the front of her grey boyshorts are soaked a darker grey, her hand moving frantically inside of them. And she still has her damn shoes on. Despite the two orgasms, Eliza feels a jolt of painful, overstimulated arousal and presses her thighs together.

Still catching her breath, Eliza absently reaches out to run a hand over Maria's body, watching her shiver as she trails a palm down her stomach. She traces a stretch mark down Maria's side, her leg, then goes back up to stroke one above her breast, feeling almost meditative. Maria shifts then, and Eliza looks up, and Maria looks  ― uncomfortable. Self-conscious. Huh. Eliza can't remember the last time she was self conscious about her own stretch marks ― when Phillip was still a toddler, maybe.

Eliza shifts to get on her knees, sliding her hand in Maria's hair and yanking her half upright with it, watching Maria's hand speed up, her eyes closing as her mouth opens in a silent O. "Take your clothes off." she orders, giving Maria a shake when she's slow to start. She keeps her grip on Maria's hair as the girl unsteadily kneels up, shucking off the skirt, underwear, shoes, socks. Eliza lets go after that and watches her pull her sweater over her head and unhook a plain beige bra.

Maria sits then, sweaty and breathing hard, staring unabashedly at Eliza, and Eliza tries to picture Alex fucking her, but it's hard. Alex was always the one to go down on her until she came five times, the one to beg for her to sit on his cock, never even hinted at being the aggressor. But he's been fucking a girl who practically comes whenever she's hurt for the past two years, so what the hell does she know, really.

Eliza crawls between Maria's legs, using her body to crowd her down flat on her back again, nuzzling behind her ear before biting down on her neck, hard.

"Fuck!" Maria curses, but she doesn't move away, presses into it, and Eliza sucks, keeping the pressure steady for a patient stretch of seconds, making sure the bruise forms nice and deep. When she finally stops Maria lets out a shuddering breath, and the mark is already visible and dark red-purple.

Eliza sits back, batting Maria's hand away from her cunt. "Down." Maria lets out a growl of frustration but Eliza's already slipping two fingers into her, and it's easy, no resistance, so she works in a third, and Maria's growl turns into a gasp. Eliza huffs out a laugh and scores her nails down Maria's upper thighs as her three fingers fuck in hard. Maria's hips rise off the bed and she _whimpers._

Eliza uses her free hand to smack down on Maria's thigh. "Knees to chest." Maria's feet leave the bed where they're planted, legs folding up and letting Eliza fuck in deeper, harder. Angling her hand, she brings all four fingers together and slowly fucks in. "Oh god." Maria clenches down hard around her fingers, and Eliza glances up at Maria's face, tilting her head slightly in inquiry.

"Do you think I could get my whole hand in you?" Maria's, whose red flush has spread from her face down to her chest, glares.

"―aaah, fuck you, try." Maria says tightly and Eliza smiles, baring her teeth.

"I realize you're not exactly familiar with the concept, but, ask permission ―" She fucks her fingers out and in.  "― and ask nicely."

Maria's eyes flash and her hips stutter, and she _gushes_ , somehow becoming even wetter around Eliza's fingers.  " _Fuck_ you." Maria's voice is ragged and hurting it's so goddamn much a shiver runs down the back of Eliza's neck.

Eliza stills her hand. "Really? Huh, and here I thought you were sorry."

Maria's eyes squeeze shut, hands balling into fists and she half-sobs. "FuckyoufuckyoufuckyouFUCKYOU, please, fuck me."  And Eliza, head buzzing and blank with the rush of adrenaline, obliges, moving her fingers in and out, again and again, hand going deeper each time. Maria's hand has comes down to rub at her clit, and they fall into a rhythm, the sound of their movements and breathing loud in the otherwise quiet room.

When she gets to the knuckles it gets more difficult. She spends some time carefully pushing as Maria breathes deep and tries to relax into it, the hand not at her clit tossed over her face. When Eliza pushes past the widest point of resistance the rest of her hand slips in to the wrist and Maria groans long and loud. 

Eliza stays very, very still for the first minute, watching Maria rub at herself with furiously increasing speed, clenching _hard_ around her hand. Then she shifts her fingers until she hit a smooth dip with her middle finger, circling experimentally, finger going around the raised, circular ridge of Maria's cervix.

She watches Maria's face carefully as she makes a raw, guttural sound, clenching around Eliza rhythmically, orgasm building. Eliza spreads her fingers slowly, the tips of her pointer finger and middle finger settling on either side of the cervix, and tugs lightly. Maria yells through gritted teeth, sound low and from deep in her chest, and comes, clamping down hard enough on Eliza that her hand starts to tingle and go slightly numb.

As she relaxes again, Eliza slips her hand out wipes it absently on the sheets before lying down on the bed beside Maria. She closes her eyes and focuses on her breathing. She listens Maria's breathing slows and quiets eventually, and when Eliza looks over, she's got her eyes closed and looks like she might be dozing.  They snap open after a few seconds of Eliza watching, though, gaze focusing, then sharpening.

Maria's mouth tilts, eyebrows rising. "Well, that was..." She look away from Eliza, at the ceiling, and laughs mirthlessly. "You know, I didn't really get the impression from Alex you were the type." She falls silent, not elaborating further and underneath the disdain Eliza hears the hurting, sees the guardedness in Maria's eyes. She did that to her, she put that there. It doesn't make Eliza feel good anymore, just hollow and tired. And the contempt in Maria's voice brings back an unpleasant old memory Eliza thought to be long lost to time, of something her college ex-girlfriend, Joanna had called her after she and Alex announced their engagement ― "lesbian until graduation."

Eliza takes a deep breath and sits up. "You need to leave."

Maria nods slowly, but doesn't move, watching Eliza get up and pick up the cordless landline on the dresser. "I'm going to call you a car that'll pick you up in underground parking, I'll give you the spot number. It'll drop you off wherever you're going."

Maria looks like she's about to protest but Eliza cuts her off. "Or you can go through the front on your own. How many journalists do you think might be out there by now?"

Maria pulls back slightly, purses her lips, then she nods, getting up and heading into the ensuite. Eliza leaves the room to make the call.

***

When Maria comes out of the bedroom her outfit is a smoothed-down mess but her gaze is clear, steady and cold. Eliza hands her a piece of paper with the details ― _apt. floor P2, space 51, black car, driver named manuel_ ― and Maria takes it from her and hesitates, meeting Eliza's eyes. Eliza does her the courtesy of a blank face, watching Maria's face resolve and harden as she turn away, shoes tap, tap, tapping past the living room, down the hall. Door open, door shut.

Eliza follows after a beat, locking the door, doing the deadbolt and disabling the intercom.

She takes her t-shirt off, letting it drop to the ground at the door before padding into the living room. She lies down on her couch, in the same spot as before, naked. This time, when the pain hits her it's like cold water against her lungs.

She gasps for air and sobs.

**Author's Note:**

> because why does hamilton get to be the only Chaotic Bisexual™?
> 
> for reference Maria's 25 and Eliza's in her late thirties here. In the musical eliza is the foil to hamilton's aforementioned (masculine coded) chaos and moral dubiousness -- she's the voice of reason, the morally upright one. (feminine coded traits)
> 
> i wanted to see if i could flip that and give her a destructive role. i dunno if i succeeded in making this transformative or left her completely OOC and unrecognizable, but ultimately I Wrote It For The Porn so either way, mission accomplished.
> 
> ...but man, this always happens. i start imagining a story/scenario from one character's perspective -- maria in this case, and after amassing a bunch of story relevant details about the character, i begin writing from a completely different character's perspective. why do you do this to me brain.
> 
> also a psa 1) don't get sex tips, information or education from fic and b) if you're going to play around with the cervix be gentle and be aware that it makes some people nauseous à la the vagus nerve. for the Level Ten Queers.


End file.
